


we were born with nothing

by namio



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Gen, One Shot Collection, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, listen im already a piece of garbage so i might as well spam this damn archive w more michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namio/pseuds/namio
Summary: His eyes were soft as he gazed up to Maotelus."Let's start with this village. Let's start with Camlann."or, Camlann before it's all blood and cinder.





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So yeah. Tell me ‘bout Maotelus?”  
> “Uh,” Michael says.  
> Selene gives him a thumbs up. “What food he likes best is a good start."

Selene wonders if she’s dressed up too nicely as she closes the door, making sure that it clicks softly and inconspicuously.

Nights in Camlann are always way too quiet, with just the ringing of insects filling up the air like incense smoke, but sometimes it's not a bad thing. Sundown was hours ago, and most of the lights inside are already out now, leaving the streets dark. It’s no problem, though—there’s not much here either, and three months is enough for her to remember the layout of Camlann and its surroundings with eyes closed.

Holding back her natural urge to hum, Selene makes her way to Artorius Throne.

The breeze of the mountains is always her favorite part of the night—grinning, she doesn’t hold back that skip in her step. That’s the other nice thing about Camlann, too. Dirt path, for the most part; only some parts are paved so far. Construction is still ongoing; she herself still lives with some others because they’re still finishing up the last half of the houses, which needs enough labor that the _ Shepherd _ is enlisted as lumber-carrier. Sort of nice anyway, though—rotation cooking? Better than cooking for one, for sure. Selene frankly can’t stand the idea of being too solitary, especially since Camlann is still so small.

And it’s quiet at night. Seriously—as she leaves the cluster of houses, there are pretty much just shadows of Aroundight pines, and there’s a Volgran orange tree that someone brought here to plant, and a stone shrine, and a backless bench, and a short growing tree next to the Blessed Marlind—

Huh. Wait. Faltering in her steps, Selene mentally backtracks. The silhouette next to the tree, one hand loosely raised to touch the trunk, is facing away from her, but, well. That, uh, height and characteristic hair gives it away. Selene has heard things about their Michael being a bit of an insomniac, roaming the village at night ever so often, and she’s also one of those who’ve seen him actually sleeping  _ on _ a tree branch, but huh. This is, frankly, the first time she’s seen him at night. Michael remains unmoving. As her eyes get used to the darkness, she now sees that his jacket is missing, too, leaving him in his white shirt only. Tsk, irresponsible. The weather in Camlann is a pretty big departure from the rest of Rolance, she’s heard, and in a ‘colder’ sense.  ‘Much colder’.  He’s going to catch a cold.

Selene eyes him as she sneaks forward.

“Boo.”

His shoulders shake, twice, then he turns his head. Moonlight is mottled because of the leaves, but it’s clear that he’s laughing, now. Well, laugh is a bit of an overstatement. Chuckle, more like. “Evening, Selene.”

“Evening, good sir,” Selene replies, hand on her hips. “And what brings you to the humble outside, hmm?”

Michael turns to face her, but he also seems to slink back, as though trying to slot himself into some sort of cavity and hide himself. Ah, their Shepherd, so shy. “Just couldn’t sleep,” Michael admits, taking a step back. Oh. Outside the shade of the tree, the moonlight actually  _ does _ something. Right. Following him to the light, Selene keeps her gaze on him, eyebrows raised.

“You’re planning to sleep out here?”

His cheeks redden, just a bit, and Selene grins. Michael looks away, almost huffs—“No; just needed some fresh air.” A breeze passes by, tussling leaves and hair and stuff, and it seems to cool him down again. “What about you?”

“Just enjoying the night,” she says. Probably better not mention the entire Rolance thing. Sure, she did imply that she might come over, but hey. She’s a busy woman, and Heldalf can stick it. “T’s nice and cold up here, and quiet is nice in small doses, I suppose.”

“Mhm.”

Phew. That’s a bottle dodged. Honestly, the entire thing about Rolance soldiers and, well, ‘fraternizing’ is a public secret at this point, but if Michael chooses not to think about it or something she’s fine with it. Probably a bit awkward, talking about this sort of things with him, anyway—it always seems like his joys in life are like, old dusty stones and bringing rice balls to Artorius Throne and presumably Maotelus, and these needs are below him. Good old Mathea is still trying to coax out his type out of him, as far as she’s heard—so far, apparently it’s “awkward laughter”.

Oh well. Shepherds, pure, synonyms. Adorable: she said that already.

“Being alone when you’re feeling all contemplative isn’t always the best idea, though,” Selene says. She knows the appeal very well, but she also knows that it doesn’t always lead to the brightest places; knowing the Shepherd and the fact that he’s been going around Glenwood battling things and verbally fighting in words, she imagines that it probably isn’t going to be much better. “In the dark, too. You’re getting up there in the melodramatic melancholic poets, Mich.”

“Mich—“ Michael almost chokes, but regains his composure. “Uh.”

“So what’s in your mind?”

“Ah, nothing much. I was just thinking about… Maotelus.”

Oh, Maotelus. Now that’s something she can get behind. Frankly, she’s been referring to him as Maotelus internally all this time, though she tacks on ‘Lord’ when actually vocalizing it. The other villagers don’t really take it kindly, apparently, even though Michael himself calls him just that—though then again, Muse does call the seraphim Lords and Ladies. Or some of them, at least. Selene herself can only hear them, and that’s not even a constant thing; though ever since she moved to Camlann, her ‘resonance’ has been smooth sailing. It’s nice, being able to hear the seraphim clearly. Michael said once something about malevolence blocking resonances, sometimes. It’s nice to know that Camlann is pure.

“What sorts of things? Things all right?”

Michael shifts to his other leg. Another breeze sweeps through, and he shivers, but pointedly ignores her look. “Well, I suppose it is.”

Selene raises her eyebrows. “Not very promising.”

“It’s nothing too big, I don’t think,” Michael sighs. “Maotelus is strong; so long as we keep believing in him and praying for him, I think it’ll be fine. I guess I just… worry. I can’t help it. It’ll be fine.”

Mmm. What a load of bullshit. Selene supposes that she  _ sort of _ gets why? But at the same time, really—hiding these kinds of things just doesn’t really solve much, does it? Maybe she’ll bring it up with Muse or something, when she doesn’t look half dead, but maybe she can get straight to the man.

“All right, then.” What a load of bullshit. Selene mentally claps her own back. “Tell me more about Maotelus, though?”

At this, Michael blinks. Gotcha. Selene sits down on the grass, thanking Maotelus that it hasn’t rained earlier today and so the ground isn’t a state of mud and despair, and pats the space next to her. “You know, when you got to Cadbur, what sold me on your status as a Shepherd is the fact that you seem fairly, hmm… Friendly? Casual, with the seraphim. Like, no Ladies or Lords or stuffs like that. I mean, it just strikes me as how it should be? I mean, of course some people would disagree but that’s how  _ I  _ felt a Shepherd should be, anyway. That sort of person just sounds like someone who would actually know the seraphim personally, who actually hangs out with them and think of them as friends. So yeah. Tell me ‘bout Maotelus?”

“Uh,” Michael says.

Selene gives him a thumbs up. “What food he likes best is a good start. Not to spill feminine secrets or anything, but the best way to  _ anyone’s _ heart is definitely through the stomach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as soon as i pasted this thing into ao3 i can feel my need for death increase exponentially


End file.
